


Everything and nothing

by bubbie0809



Category: NCIS
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1963299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbie0809/pseuds/bubbie0809
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is slowly starting to fall apart. Will anyone notice?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am just borrowing. This is only the second NCIS fic I have written.  
> I was nervous about starting it, but it was dying to get out.

Everything is my fault isn’t it? Hasn’t it always been? Nothing I ever touched turned out the way I wanted, the way I expected, or to be what I needed?  
What I need is not to feel alone, in a world where everyone is paired up, where is my mate? I’m like a sock that was lost in the dryer.  
McGee has Delilah, I’m so happy for him, I am. But in the back of my mind I am jealous.  
I’m supposed to be the good looking one; I am the one always picking up the women! Me! And maybe that is the problem. This closet is starting to suffocate me.  
It’s not manly, its not right, it isn’t natural or is it? I have never felt more like myself, more comfortable in my skin than the few times I have allowed myself the indulgence.  
Safe, it is not. I don’t feel safe changing myself so drastically, to stop the pretending, to stop the hiding and to just be myself. No one really wants to see that.  
I have never had that, a place or a person where I could just be myself. When I try to find that place, I close my eyes and all I see is blue eyes and sawdust.  
That isn’t a dream I can afford to have. Who feels safe and at home while at work? My actual apartment is such an empty place. It is beautiful to look at, but with no life or warmth inside. Is that what people think when they look at me? Do I fit in to my surrounding so perfectly? I must, because it is the face I chose to show the world.  
I wonder if he sees behind it? Does he see the empty rooms, the lonely place where I reside? Or does he see and still find me lacking? If that is the case, then there is no help for me. He is never wrong.  
I sit up and look around the living room. Damn it! I said I wasn’t going to keep doing this…  
It is going to take forever to clean up all these wrappers, chocolate bars, chip bags, take out bags, pop cans, beer cans and pizza boxes.  
I need to stop feeding my pain, this is going to start reflecting in my work. And I need to be the one who can chase down a suspect, kick down doors, climb up a ladder without anything holding me back.  
I slowly walk into the bathroom, there are no mirrors in there, I don’t need to see my face. I know how I feel about what I have to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is slowly starting to fall apart. Will anyone notice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, I am just borrowing. This is only the second NCIS fic I have written.  
> I was nervous about starting it, but it was dying to get out.

Do you dream in full color? My dreams are only full of brilliant blues and deep reds. 

Does that mean anything? Does it predict anything about my life, does it show that there is nothing in my life but death and a man. There is nothing else for me, he doesn't desire this package and I don’t blame him. I am nothing. And death doesn't seem to want me yet. I am not seeking death out, but it would be an escape. 

I am destined to walk alone, alone in my life and alone in death. Who would mourn me? Would they miss me, would my death leave a hole in anyone’s life or would my life really fade as fast as I believe? 

My façade is fading, the jokes, the smiles, the laughter, is starting to dim and I just don’t have the energy to keep polishing it. 

Alone, I don’t want to be alone anymore. I am crying, screaming and terrified of the empty prison that I have created around myself. 

The only thing that makes me feel better is the food. The feeling of fullness, the acceptance and the comfort. But it doesn't last, it never lasts. 

And when the feeling of fullness becomes too much, when I have taken in all I can stand. I have to purge it. 

The same way people have done to me my entire life. Used me for my usefulness, for what I could do for them, what they needed from me and thrown me away. 

My mother did it, maybe not on purpose, but her death made me feel she couldn't wait to get away from me. If she did she would have tried to live longer, to live for me. I know it isn't a logical thought, but it feels like it.   
My father didn't know what to do with a sad and lonely boy who needed his mother. So at 12, he just dumped me at school and was done. Unless he needs money or validation, not me, I am not what he needs. 

Wendy, Kate, Jeanne, Jenny, the list is endless. I am always left behind.   
I know my team is next, I can hear it in their voices, when I have nothing to add, when my hunches are wrong, when the jokes are over the top. When even I can feel the false notes in all my words. 

I just want someone, him especially to ask what is wrong. Can I help? But my failure is what is on display. 

Never my need. Do they not see it?


End file.
